Sunshine, Freedom, Flowers
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: America couldn't remember a time he had ever been happier...and to think it had started with a single rose.


"_Just living is not enough… One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."_

– _Hans Christian Anderson_

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It started with a simple knock on the door and a single lavender rose.

Alfred never delivered the flowers in person, and Arthur never thanked him for them, never told him that he waited anxiously for the delivery each week. Alfred never acknowledged that he sent Arthur a flower every week, or that Arthur would always reciprocate by sending a flower back. However, on occasion, someone, usually Francis, would make a reference that reminded them about their secret correspondence and their eyes would meet briefly, each flushing. But nothing more was ever said or done.

Now, almost exactly one year and many different variations of flowers later, Arthur had gotten into a habit of being home at three o'clock every Wednesday.

This Wednesday appeared to be no difference at first glance. Arthur was home by three, sitting on his couch, waiting for the knock to come. This Wednesday was different, however, in that it had been a year since that first flower, and Arthur was curious. Would anything change? Would Alfred even realize how long this had been going on?

A knock. Quickly, Arthur jumped up from the couch and rushed to the door, stopping his hand mere centimeters from the knob. It was a flower delivery. He shouldn't be this excited…he was a gentleman. _Take a deep breath, count to twenty, compose yourself._ Sighing, Arthur did as his mind advised before opening the door…to that forever smirking familiar-looking deliveryman. A smirking French deliveryman who had shown up every Wednesday for the last year, but who never let Arthur get a good look at his face, always having it blocked by a hat.

"You didn't fling the door open, this time," the deliveryman said, feigning hurt in a way that vaguely reminded Arthur of a neighbor of his before he gave a slight shake of his head and ignored the nagging voice in his mind.

"Don't you ever take a day off?" Arthur groaned. Why couldn't he just give him the flower and leave him be? Every week the deliveryman had some comment, some remark, and Arthur was getting rather sick of it.

"And miss your flustered reactions every week, _mon cher_? Wouldn't dream of it!"

Arthur desperately wished he weren't a gentleman in this day and age. Just a couple of decades ago, and he could have punched the smirk right off the man's face…but it wasn't "_socially acceptable"_ anymore. Wimps, the lot of 'em.

"Just give me the damn flower," Arthur grumbled through gritted teeth.

The deliveryman laughed before brandishing the rose he had had hidden behind his back, giving the growling Nation a suave smile. "_Une rose pour toi de ton amour_~."

"Thank you," Arthur forced out, slamming the door in the laughing deliveryman's face.

Letting out an angry sigh, Arthur leaned against the door and looked at the flower in his hand.

"A rose. An _orange_ rose," Arthur mused. Alfred hadn't sent a rose since that first one, and then it had been lavender. Did he know about the different meanings roses had depending on their color? Or did he just pick them because they were pretty?

A soft sound caused by a letter falling to the ground brought Arthur out of his thoughts. Intrigued, he picked up the letter and opened it, hardly surprised to see Alfred's handwriting.

"{Various greetings are written but have been crossed out}_ Arthur,_

_What's up?__ I hope you enjoy the rose._

{Alfred had written and then crossed out: "_It's orange…you probably realized that already._"}

_Do you know what orange roses symbolize? Supposedly they symbolize a new relationship. Not that we need a new one, of course! But…well, one website (stop laughing!) said that it's a good color to give if you want to develop a relationship further. And I do. Want to develop it further, I mean._

_Ugh. I hate writing letters. I always sound like an idiot (I said stop laughing!). Anyway if, you know, you do want to, well…you know…I'm outside. _

_Yeah._

_I planned this. That delivery guy is pretty awesome. _

…

_Only not as awesome as you, of course! _

_I hope that you're willing to come out and meet me. I, well, I have plans for us if you say yes. _

_But…it's cool if…you don't want to. _

_I will wait for you, though._

{Arthur can see that Alfred tried different ending statements including "Love" and "Sincerely" but they have all been crossed out.}

_Alfred_"

"He couldn't even rewrite the note so it was clean…" Arthur groaned, trying to sound cross, but instead sounding almost touched. "Idiot," he said with a small laugh, moving to put the rose in a vase before going to meet Alfred. He didn't want to seem too excited, after all.

* * *

Time passed quickly for Nations; a year was just a quick blink. But to Alfred, the past two years had been absolutely perfect. He'd finally come to terms with his feelings for Arthur, and had decided that Arthur would prefer a more old fashioned courting than something flashy. Alfred thought it was cheesy…until he sent that first lavender rose (love at first sight, enchantment, he recalls the meaning) and received a rose in return. That first year had been all subtlety until Alfred decided to send that orange rose (passion, developing a relationship) and a note asking if Arthur want to move to the next step.

Alfred still remembers how he waited anxiously, wondering what Arthur would do, what he'd choose.

He couldn't remember a time he had felt happier than what he had felt when Arthur opened the door, obviously trying to hide his smile with a frown. Alfred wanted to cheer, but knew that by doing that, all chances of the next step would be ruined.

"So, guess you said yes to my awesomeness, eh, old man?" Well, no one was perfect.

"Oh, belt up. It's not because of you. I just have nothing better to do tonight." The faint flush gave away the lie, but Alfred let him be. It was hard to talk someone out of denial, but he had plenty of time.

Alfred had taken Arthur to the movies that night. No dinner, no chatting after coffee…just an action flick then home. They were Nations, and there was no need to rush, and that was fine with Alfred.

Every month, now, the two would see a film together, nothing more, nothing less. Each month they'd alternate who chose.

This month was Arthur's turn to choose. Alfred had begged and pleaded for Arthur to tell him what movie they were going to see, but the other refused, instead telling him that it was a secret and "Your ridiculous pouting has not worked since the 18th century so give it up."

"Never!" Alfred shouted before resuming his pouting and storming off to the concession stand. A few of the people standing behind Arthur laughed, while the older Nation rolled his eyes at the immature behavior.

By the time Arthur finished buying the tickets and caught up with Alfred, the latter's fake pouting had turned into a giant grin barely visible behind an armful of food.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Arthur asked, sounding faintly disgusted.

"Of course not!" Arthur looked relieved. "Half of it's for you!"

The relief faded, and Arthur could almost feel himself getting sick from the mere thought of ingesting all that food.

"I'm not eating that! Besides, you put way too much butter on the popcorn! It's disgusting!"

Alfred laughed, ignoring Arthur's shouted complaints, and led the way to the worker punching tickets…the oddly familiar worker…

"Hey!" Arthur exclaimed, his hand extended with the tickets. "Aren't you the delivery guy?"

The ticket puncher chuckled and took the tickets from Arthur's hand. "_C'est possible mon cher_," he told him, looking up from the tickets with a grin. England made a spluttering sound when he realized that it was none other than Francis.

"Wha—Francis! What are you doing here?"

"Why, I have a part time job, is it not obvious? Theater fourteen. Enjoy your date!"

"It's not a date!" A flustered Arthur shouted, but was ignored by the laughing Francis.

"Denial is a river in Egypt. You should know that, Artie," Alfred said as he grabbed the growling Arthur's hand to lead him to theater fourteen, ignoring the chuckling Frenchman.

"Let go."

"No."

They couldn't get to the theater soon enough for Arthur who tried in desperation to pull his hand away, but only managed to make Alfred drop a single box of candy.

"So, Arthur, what movie are we seeing?" Alfred tried again, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Sixteenth Sense."

Alfred started choking on his popcorn. "Wha-what?" He managed to croak.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur threw a jelly bean into his mouth. "Sixteenth Sense."

"Isn't that a scary movie? With ghosts?"

"Seriously, Alfred, what are you? Fifty? You're over two hundred years old, and it's not even that scary. Get over it."

Laughing weakly, Alfred turned away, watching as the theater started getting darker. "R-right. Not scary at all."

Not scary at all Alfred's ass. Halfway through the movie and already, the main characters had all been killed off. Alfred had no idea who to root for, how it was going to end, or even how the movie could still be going on.

"Ah!" Alfred let out a scream as a secondary main character was killed off.

"Alfred," Arthur muttered, leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear. "It's obviously fake. You've seen people attacked with a sword before and you know it doesn't look like that. There's not been one realistic thing in this film. Don't be so afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" Alfred snapped back, glaring when he saw Arthur roll his eyes. "Heroes are never afraid."

"Whatever, git." They turned back to the film, and Arthur gave Alfred a worried glance when another muffled scream occurred. Wordlessly, Arthur moved his hand and gave Alfred's a squeeze for support. Alfred grumbled something about heroes not needing to hold hands, but another character was killed and suddenly, Arthur found his hand being squeezed within an inch of its life.

They kept holding hands for the rest of the movie.

"M-man," Alfred started once the film was over and they left the theater. "That was a gr-great movie!"

"Please. Nothing was even remotely realistic. There was no plot to speak of. And what was with all those random characters that popped in once then never showed up again? It was horrible, Alfred."

Alfred felt himself sag a little, feeling a sense of relief that he didn't have to pretend to like it. "You're right, it was pretty weak, wasn't it?" That didn't mean Alfred wasn't going to have trouble sleeping tonight. Starting to plan ahead, he thought about calling his brother for an impromptu 'boys night out' and missed what Arthur said next. "What?"

Arthur turned away, muttering about someone's hearing needing to be checked. Alfred kept staring at him until Arthur finally looked back, blushing faintly. "I said, do you want to stay at my house tonight? I, erm, didn't expect the film to be that scary and—oh, forget it!" Quickly, Arthur began walking off, leaving a stunned, but touched, Alfred behind.

Shaking his head to come back to his senses, Alfred ran after Arthur, not wanting to let the chance slip by. "Really?! That would be awesome, Arthur, thank you!"

And, later that night, Alfred entered Arthur's room, pillow in hand, looking frightened.

"Yes, Alfred?" Arthur grumbled, pretending he had just woken up, though both knew the truth.

"Can—Can I sleep with you, please? …I mean, that was a scary movie and I'm a hero and if you're afraid then that's what I'm here for and—"

"Alfred. Just get in bed and shut up. Some of us do like to sleep at night."

With a grin, Alfred practically threw himself in the bed. And, when he proceeded to wrap his arms around Arthur and was not rejected, his smile grew. When he had ever been happier, he didn't know.

And to think it had started with a simple knock on the door and a single lavender rose.

* * *

_Author's Notes: _

_A lavender rose can symbolize love at first sight and enchantment. That was the number one reason I chose this color. However, lavender roses can also "express romantic feelings and intentions," a sense of control "or the need to proceed cautiously and slowly," and an "air of regal majesty and splendor," which all seem fitting in my opinion. Also, because they are connected to the "fabled blue rose," they can be seen as magical._

_An orange rose can also mean a few different things. As Alfred mentioned, they can be used to symbolize a "desire to move a relationship beyond the stage of friendship. In one website (and the one Alfred referenced) is the description "t__hey can have the soft radiance of an autumn sunset which warms and soothes the spirit. At the same time, orange roses can have an intensity that can consume hearts and souls, much like the fire that we associate them with." To me, Arthur reminds me of Autumn, and with the bright life that shines in Alfred, I felt these descriptions were fitting for them. And to stick with the magical theme, the second website listed claims that you can send orange roses when someone has "bewitched" you._

_And for the number of roses sent? That was actually a coincidence, but giving one rose means "love at first sight," as well as "you are the one." When Arthur sent a rose back, that upped the number to two roses exchanged, meaning "Mutual love and feelings." The final rose made three, meaning "I love you." That was completely unintentional, however, but now that I know, I feel the amount is perfect._

_Also, the "Sixteenth Sense" is just a parodied title. They did not see the Sixth Sense. I'm not a big fan of scary movies and couldn't think of one to suit my purposes, so I made one up._

_If you want any of the websites I used in research, feel free to comment asking for them, or check out the livejournal version of this fic for the links :)_


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